


Communicative Breakdown

by kelex



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:58:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal promised he'd come for Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communicative Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Communicative Avenues](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4801850)

The next night, it was Will's cell phone that rang. He wasn't even thinking of anything in specific when he answered it; he just rolled over and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello, Will."

Will sat up straight; he hadn't expected the call to be from Hannibal Lecter, of all people, and the only thing he could think of was the night before, when he had come so hard, with only his hand and Hannibal's voice in his ear. He shivered, and pulled the blankets up around his shoulder and under his neck as if they could protect him. "Hello, Hannibal." 

"I see we've made it back to a first-name basis. I suppose that's to be expected, since I am the one who made you come last night." Hannibal licked his lips, Will could hear the quiet smack over the speaker. "I made you a promise, didn't I?"

"You said… you said you would come for me," Will echoed, repeating Hannibal's words of the night before. 

"Look at your telephone." 

Will pulled the smartphone away from his ear--the contact information of the caller was _not_ the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. It was--"It says wireless caller." 

"Yes. I suppose you are smart enough to know what that means." Hannibal leaned against the wall of the hospital, straightening the borrowed clothes. Stolen clothes. Either way, their original owner would no longer be in need of them. 

"That you are coming for me," Will said a third time. 

"In every way you can think of. After your little phone call last night, I was forced to take matters into my own hands." 

Will bit his lip; he knew that Hannibal was being deliberately evocative, forcing in as many double entendres as possible into the conversation, but he really didn't have to. "Tell me about it." 

"Naughty boy, Will. That's my line." Hannibal started to move then, walking away from the hospital and into the dark of the night. He knew the hotels that the FBI would pay for, and he knew that Jack Crawford wouldn't have put Will at any of them because they were too easy to find. Especially for a serial killer like the Great Red Dragon, who was entirely too smart for everyone's comfort level. "After I spoke with you, I obviously had a certain need to fulfill. Care to speculate?"

"You were hard," Will said, licking his own lips, his mouth suddenly dry as the desert. "Tell me what you did, Hannibal. Tell me how you touched yourself, what you were thinking about. Please." He couldn't have said why he needed to know. 

"You, of course." Hannibal was beyond playing games. "I imagined having you beneath me, in my bed. Your hands were bound over your head, because you were so desperate to touch me I could not savor you. So I bound your hands and straddled your hips. As my hand stroked my cock, I imagined that I led it to your mouth. You were hungry for me, open and waiting and receptive to my touch, and you swallowed me down with great greed." His eyes drifted closed as his memory palace replayed the scene. 

Will groaned softly at the image, at both of them that warred in his mind. The thought of Hannibal in the glass cage, stroking his cock under the watchful eye of the camera, and then of himself, tied to Hannibal's bed and sucking hungrily on his hard cock. "Hannibal, please."

"No," he said firmly. "Tonight it is my turn, and I fully intend to take advantage of it." He knew that he would be obeyed, and Will's grunt of displeasure proved it. "As I was saying, you were quite eager in sucking my cock, and my hands gripped your hair tightly and pulled you forward so that I could more easily fuck your face. " 

Will was panting heavily, his cock hardening almost instantly. Hannibal's finely cultured tones speaking such terrible, dirty things, and he groaned harshly into the phone. He wanted to roll onto his stomach, roll his hips, rub himself on the bed, but he knew Hannibal wouldn't allow it. "I didn't ever imagine you talking like this."

"Language is language, Will. Words are meaningless until they're used, and it's how they're spoken that gives them context, gives them weight. I could just as easily say that I imagined my hands in your hair pulling your mouth forward as I pressed in, but it lacks… feeling. Emotion. Passion, even, and that is why I use the crass words that so surprise you. Because while both describe the same thing, fucking your face is far more evocative of the hard slap of flesh against flesh, the delicious wet slurp, even the heat and sweat that pools between bodies."

"Did I swallow for you? Because I would." Will was panting softly, stifling the moans as he listened to Hannibal's voice weaving its pictures.

"No. I wouldn't let you." Hannibal was growing hard as well, but he was controlling his breathing as he stalked the side streets, looking for an appropriate vehicle. "Your tongue was licking the head of my cock, and I was deep in your throat--you did manage to take it all, which pleased you greatly. But I wanted more, so I pulled out and came on your face. I admit, I took a great deal of pleasure in doing that, scenting myself all over you, eliminating the scent of anyone else that you have been with." Disdain in his tone, then. 

"Oh God." Will shuddered in the bed, the mattress springs creaking under his weight as he bore down against the bed. "You scented me." 

"Of course I did. Do you think I would stand the smell of that… that woman on you?" More disdain, with the barest hint of anger. 

"No, of course not." Will's eyes were closed as he felt the warm patter of Hannibal's come on his face, sliding like rain into his open mouth. His tongue crept out, but tasted only the stale, dry air of the room's air conditioner. "I'm sorry, Hannibal."

"I know." Finally he found an obliging car, something older that blended into any area in the world, and before he broke the window, he tried the latch. It was unlocked, and Hannibal slid into the passenger seat easily. "I know you are, Will, but you will have some groveling to do when I am through with you." His fingers found wires beneath the dash easily, and the car roared into life. "Now. Tell me where you are."

Will gave him the name of the motel and the room number. "Hannibal, you can't. You can't come here, when they see you've gone, they'll come to me first to look for you. You can't be here, you have to go, you have to be safe," he babbled quickly, even as he vaulted from the bed. 

"Be quiet." Hannibal pulled onto the street and began navigating. "I will be passing by your hotel in ten minutes. If you are interested, you need merely be standing outside your room. Should you not, I will pass by and refrain from visiting you ever again. The choice is yours, William." He hung up the phone and left it on the dash.

Will was pacing wildly back and forth, staring at the disconnected phone. He couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe that he was thinking about it. There was nothing he had brought with him that he couldn't do without, except for the one thing he took everywhere with him. 

Digging through the bag, he pulled the bloody linoleum knife out of a secret pocket, and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. He'd stolen it from the house, along with the box of Hannibal's recipe cards, and those were the only things he wanted to take. He tucked the box under his arm and locked the door behind him, leaving the key in the lock as he leaned against the door. 

A nondescript sedan rolled up beside him, and the window creaked down to reveal Hannibal behind the wheel. "Going my way?"

Will got into the car, and rolled the window up as Hannibal pulled out of the motel parking lot. He put the recipe box in the floorboard, and looked over at Hannibal in the driver's side. "Do you know where we're going?"

"At the moment, away. By the time we've crossed the state line, I will have formulated a plan." Hannibal's hands were both on the steering wheel. "I'm glad to see you, Will." 

"I have something for you." Lifting up, he pulled the bloody knife out of his pocket and offered it to Hannibal. "I didn't think you'd have one on you, and you shouldn't be defenseless." 

Hannibal took the knife, still dark with Will and Abigail's blood, and handed it back to Will. "I don't need to defend myself against you."

Will put it back in his pocket. "No, you don't." 

There was silence in the car until day broke, and they left the old crappy sedan in a residential neighborhood, where Hannibal and Will broke into a foreclosure and slept for a few hours. 

When he woke, Hannibal found that Will was curled around him, pressed tightly into Hannibal's warmth. The hungry erection from the night before was pressed into Hannibal's hip, and Hannibal smiled to himself. This closeness after three years of sterility was something that he could easily get used to. They would have to leave, soon, maybe in an hour. 

But they might have time for something more than the telephone.

End


End file.
